


neon nights and restless souls

by punkpete



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bickering, Frottage, Idiots in Love, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Shotgunning, a bit of bondage???, endgame larry and ziam ofc, i can't believe that's a popular tag, i cant believe i just wrote that sentence as if a vibrator is a character goodbye, i feel like i tag everything w side ziam i need to step up my game goddamn, i think thats it, if youre here for zouis hit the back button, it lasts .2 seconds bc zayn is in love with liam in every universe srry, jade perrie ed and olly are hardly in this but i tagged them anyway cause im THOROUGH, louis in thigh highs oh yes, louis is vengeful?, mostly off-screen vibrator, niall is a single pringle even tho he could have all the ladies but whats fuckin new, very tiny bit of nick grimshaw, ziam is more to the side tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 09:01:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5660569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkpete/pseuds/punkpete
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Who is he? Do I know him?” He asks, his voice pitched lower, dark and ominous. Louis scratches at the back of his neck nervously. He shouldn’t answer, he doesn’t have to. It’s none of Harry’s business, not anymore. But it doesn’t add up. How does Harry not know already?</p><p>“Not that it’s any of your business, but. If it’ll make you leave me alone, then. Well. It’s — uh — it’s Zayn.” Louis lets out, feels the bile rise in his throat as Harry full on glares at him, mouth open with disbelief.</p><p>Or, Niall is caught in the middle of a love square.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello lovelies! i don't know what this fic is. stupid boys being stupid, i suppose. nevertheless, i hope you enjoy it. this is not beta-ed, so all mistakes are my own. sadly, i don't own 1D, but that'd be the life, wouldn't it? lmao. part two will be posted on monday and the majority of the smut will be in that chapter. 
> 
> kudos and comments are appreciated as always!
> 
> come say hi on [tumblr](http://sluttylouiis.tumblr.com/)
> 
> love,
> 
> sam

Louis knows the second he wakes up. He’s here. More importantly, he’s  _ back.  _ The way they left things was incredibly messy, but. It’s not as if Louis can stay mad at Harry. Especially not when he’s been plaguing his dreams ever since he met him.

 

Louis takes in a shaky breath, can hear the padding of feet out in the hallway, the sounds of tea being stirred in the kitchen, can feel it in his bones, it can’t be anyone but him. There’s just several things wrong with this equation:

 

  1. Louis is with someone.
  2. Harry is... _Harry._
  3. Louis and Harry cannot live under the same roof. 



 

Harry knows they can’t live in the same house. He knows exactly what he’s doing. He likes to make Louis uncomfortable, thrives on making him squirm and flounder under the palpable tension between them, no matter what kind it might be. Louis isn’t going to fall for it. He won’t. More importantly, he  _ can’t.  _

 

He stands up, dragging the duvet wrapped around his bare shoulders across the floor as he steps out into the hallway and walks into the kitchen. 

 

“H?” He says, trying to sound casual and letting out  a yawn, stretching his arms above his head and catching the duvet before it falls past his hips. He looks down at his feet, a little sheepishly, because he does have  _ some  _ modesty. Believe it or not, they hadn’t done anything more than kiss. They were only kids back then, after all.

 

His eyes widen as he looks up, taking in the boy before him, but he seems to resemble a man much more than he did three years ago. Same big green eyes and cupids bow lips, but his hair is much longer now, past his shoulders. He’s wearing a silk black button up, but it’s only barely held closed by the last two buttons. His body is long and lean, his muscles tight under his skin. He’s wearing the tightest black skinny jeans Louis has ever seen in his entire life, and he can’t stop staring at the gigantic butterfly tattoo on his stomach. Louis swallows hard.

 

“How are you so  — ” Louis says, abruptly cuts himself off when Harry actually has the audacity to let his mouth curve up into a devilish smirk, because how bloody  _ dare  _ he.

 

“Grown up?” Harry finishes the sentence for him, grin widening out into a genuine one, and this should be awkward, it  _ should  _ be, but it isn’t. Louis has to keep up appearances though, won’t let his uncertainty show, nor his fear. He’ll just throw up this wall of rage, like he always does. It’s a safe bet. Then again, nothing is a safe bet when it comes to Harry. He’s going to keep pretending he’s angry though, even though he isn’t really anymore. 

 

“Time passes, Lou. Funny, that. What three years can do.” Harry says, voice slow and syrupy, grin lazy as his eyes drag across Louis’ body, achingly slow. Louis’ skin burns, his blood humming in his veins with the electricity of Harry’s attention focused solely on him. 

 

“You can’t stay here,” Louis blurts out, sharper than he intended. It cuts through the silence in the room, and he can hear his heart beating in his ears, sees Harry’s pulse quicken when his hands ball into fists, his posture slumping and his arms trembling. So much for this being easy. 

 

“Is there someone else?” Harry gets out through gritted teeth, his eyes hard, dark and lifeless, the natural shine gone as soon as it had appeared. Louis nods jerkily, biting his lip and looking anywhere but at Harry’s face. 

 

“You can’t just expect me to stop living because you left. I’ve moved on. I’ve been with him for six months.” Louis says, voice timid and quiet, afraid of an outburst. 

 

“Why can’t you just  _ forgive  _ me? What happened, it  — it wasn’t even that bad. We were kids, Louis. I’ve learned my lesson.” Harry says, stumbling over his own words, wringing his hands together, his voice high and a little breathy, eyes desperate. And that. Well, that’s new. That’s different. He’s never seen Harry like this, without his bravado, his charming smile and his enchanting drawl. With his defenses down. It doesn’t mean anything. It  _ doesn’t.  _

 

“I forgave you a long time ago, Haz. It’s not my fault that you didn’t come back sooner. It didn’t matter, anyways. Not anymore. We were young and just plain bloody stupid. It’s over. It didn’t mean anything.” Louis gets out, his voice sounding strained even to his own ears. That last part was a lie, but he needs Harry to leave before he does something he’ll regret. Harry stands up abruptly, leans across the counter towards Louis, grips the edge with white knuckles, his eyes harsh in the kitchen light. 

 

“Who is he? Do I know him?” He asks, his voice pitched lower, dark and ominous. Louis scratches at the back of his neck nervously. He shouldn’t answer, he doesn’t have to. It’s none of Harry’s business, not anymore. But it doesn’t add up. How does Harry  _ not  _ know already? 

 

“Not that it’s any of your business, but. If it’ll make you leave me alone, then. Well. It’s  — uh  — it’s Zayn.” Louis lets out, feels the bile rise in his throat as Harry full on glares at him, mouth open with disbelief. 

 

“What the  _ fuck _ ?” Harry yells, walking backwards and knocking the stool over behind him as he stumbles. 

 

“Get out.” Louis’ voice shakes. 

 

“How could you —  Why  _ him? _ ” Harry shouts, his arms spread wide. 

 

“Get out!” Louis commands, his voice firmer now, louder. Harry stares at him like a wounded animal, bumps into the wall as he leans down to pick up his bag from the floor, eyes wide and full of pain, red-rimmed and horrified. 

 

“I’m gonna kill him.” Harry mutters darkly, turns and walks out, slamming the door behind him before Louis can say anything, his tea cold and forgotten on the counter top. 

 

In the grand scheme of things, he probably should’ve shoved Harry out of his flat the moment he saw him sitting in his kitchen, but. Louis never claimed to be good at turning him away. It’s too late now. The damage is done. 

 

xxx

 

Harry stomps back into the house an hour later. God damn it, Louis knew he forgot something. He forgot to get the house key back from him. Fuck. Louis grits his teeth and stands up from the couch, narrowing his eyes at Harry’s figure that’s swaying in front of the doorframe, his face drawn together in an angry grimace. 

 

“I told you to leave.” Louis grits his teeth, balling up his fists at his sides.

 

“Where is he?” Harry says, side-stepping Louis’ statement with ease, as if he hadn’t said anything at all. 

 

“Who?” Louis sighs, but he already knows the answer to the question. 

 

“You know who, and don’t you  _ dare  _ say his name in front of me again.” 

 

“ _ Zaynie?”  _ He taunts, raising his eyebrows and forcing the left side of his mouth to curve upwards ever so slightly. He doesn’t really want to do this, but at the same time, he wants Harry to know what it feels like to lose the best thing you’ve ever had. 

 

Harry’s eyes blaze, but he doesn’t move, is frozen in place as he gapes at Louis like he has two heads. 

 

“I went to his flat. ‘s empty.” Harry finally gets out, his mouth a thin line, his tone like acid. 

 

“That’s because he lives here, you insufferable prick. Now, if you don’t mind, I want you gone before he gets home.” Louis makes a shooing motion with his hands, bites down on his tongue hard to stop from saying something much worse. 

 

Harry’s jaw clenches, and he turns on his heel without another word, ready to walk back out the door with his bag in hand.

 

“Ah, ah, ah. I want the key back. Hand it over.” Louis tsks. Harry turns back to look at him, and he can visibly see his face fall, as if he was hoping Louis wouldn’t ask for it.

 

Harry walks forward, his shoulders slumped, his face pale and withdrawn as he slides the key out of his tight front pocket and places it in Louis’ palm. The touch doesn’t linger. 

 

He feels as if he’s taking back the piece of his heart that Louis stole. It’s just a really big fucking piece. It’s all of it. It feels final. Permanent. 

 

He should’ve learned by now that nothing is permanent. Not even the ink on his skin. 

 

xxx

 

Harry is walking aimlessly down a side street. It’s probably not the greatest idea, since he’s bloody famous and could definitely get mobbed out here. It’s also raining, and he isn’t too fond of catching a cold. He hits speed dial number two when he manages to get his phone out of his pocket.

 

“Da?” The familiar voice answers on the second ring. Harry, despite himself, smiles.

 

“Hey, Ni. Trying something different?” He kicks a rock with the toe of his boot, watches as it lands in a puddle and makes a small splash. 

 

“Always am, H. What’s up?” Niall sounds concerned. Which, doesn’t happen often. But then again, Harry doesn’t call him very often, or anyone back home for that matter. He should probably work on that.

 

“I’m back in London. I need you to come pick me up. It’s cold as hell out here, and pretty soon I’m gonna start to resemble a sewer rat.” Harry shivers, wrapping his arm tighter around himself. 

 

“Holy shit, Haz. So glad you’re back, ‘ve missed ya! Give me the street and I’ll be there in fifteen.” Harry can hear Niall’s smile over the phone. It’s contagious. 

 

xxx

 

They go to a bar. Harry isn’t surprised that this was Niall’s first stop on the  _ Welcome-Home-You-Twat  _ Extravaganza. At the very least, he figures he can kip with Niall tonight, and hopefully pump him for info on Zayn and Louis. He shudders at the thought, and vows to never think their names in the same sentence ever again. It leaves an ugly, twisted feeling in his gut. 

 

Niall leads him to a booth near the back, dark and secluded in the corner, but with a ton of welcome and familiar faces. 

 

Liam, Perrie, Jade, Olly, and Ed. This he can get on board with. He gives Liam, Olly and Ed a short hug with a pat on the back, and turns to give Perrie and Jade a kiss on both cheeks. 

 

“‘s the tour finally finished for the year?” Liam says, scooting farther into the booth to make room for Harry and Niall. 

 

“Yeah, I’m back home till next January. Finally get a decent break.” Harry tries to smile, but his voice sounds hollow. He turns to Niall and asks him to get him something brightly colored and fruity. Liam’s eyebrows are drawn together, as if he knows something is wrong, but he just nods in response. Olly and Ed are talking amongst themselves, but Jade and Perrie turn to him when Liam gets his drink from Niall’s grasp. Harry wraps his hand tightly around the glass Niall hands him, wills himself not to look down at the bright blue drink, because it’s ironic, and it hurts to think about those eyes. 

 

“How’ve you been? What’s it like bein’ an international rock star and all?” Perrie grins, reaching over the table to poke his forearm with a manicured fingertip. 

 

“It’s uh, it’s good. You know, quite stressful. It’s about weighing the pros and cons, though, and I love performing more than anything.” He takes a sip of his drink from the tiny straw, swallows down half the booze, and licks his lips. He’s pleasantly surprised there’s no burn in the back of his throat. Good one, Niall. 

 

“Will ya be working on a new album over the break?” Jade says. Harry looks up at her and smiles, releases the straw from his teeth; grateful for a question he can answer without a fuss. 

 

“Not recording, probably just writing. That’s the best part, besides being on stage.” Harry grins genuinely for the first time that night. 

 

“We should have a writing session.” Ed says then, tuning into the conversation. Niall whips his head around like an excited puppy.

 

“Fuck yeah, mate! You, me, Olly, Ed, let’s do it.” Niall is grinning so wide his face may split in half. Harry loves them all a lot. He thanks his lucky stars for friends like these. 

 

xxx

 

Harry is very drunk and is sitting in a cab with Niall on the way to his flat. This is his chance to ask about what happened with Louis, and He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. Harry mentally face palms himself, it’s not like the boy is Voldemort, for fuck’s sake. Harry decidedly hates him now, though. 

 

“How did —” he starts to say, his tongue tangling in his mouth and making it hard to get out the words. 

 

“You’re gonna ask me about how Louis ended up with Zee, aren’t you?” Niall mumbles, sounding tired and much more sober than Harry. That’s a lot out of the ordinary. Harry turns his head and looks up at Niall’s profile from his shoulder. Harry sighs, nods against Niall’s shoulder, and waits. He can feels Niall’s breath against his face as he settles his head on top of Harry’s before he speaks.

 

“Well, it started roughly half a year ago. It’s all quite fucked up really, a love triangle for the ages. See, Liam had a thing for Zayn, Louis had a thing for Zayn, and Zayn kind of had a thing for both of them. But he had to make a choice, and I’m the only one he knew that he felt the same about Liam. He chose Louis.” Harry stares down at the ring on his middle finger, twists it around to try and ignore the bile rising up his throat. 

 

“Why did he chose Lou?” Harry’s eyes are stinging. Niall leans back to give Harry a pointed look.

 

“Because he was closer to Liam and he’s afraid of actually falling in love. Louis and him aren’t...compatible that way. Louis can lie to himself all he wants, but it’s purely platonic love with a lot of physical chemistry. They only live together because it’s easier accessible for both of them that way.” 

 

“ _ Oh. _ ” is all Harry can muster. He scoots away from Niall to the other side of the cab to look out the window. He feels incredibly sick and relieved all at once. He might have a chance. He suddenly doesn’t feel intoxicated at all. 

 

“You should talk to him.” Niall eventually says, once he’s helping Harry out of the cab and up the steps to his flat. 

 

“Who?” Harry mumbles, sleepy and sick to his stomach. 

 

“Zayn. Louis, too, but Zayn is probably a more viable first option.” Niall insists, leading him inside and helping him out of his jacket and boots, taking the bag off his shoulder and walking him to the guest room. Harry doesn’t say anything, but he stops in the doorframe of the spare room and watches Niall set his duffel on the floor by the bed. 

 

“Can you sleep in here with me tonight? Sorry if that’s weird, I just  — I don’t wanna be alone right now. I need someone to stop me if I suddenly decide to drunk dial Lou, or something.” Harry tries to keep his voice even, but it sounds small and strained even to his own ears, and he can’t meet Niall’s eyes. 

 

“Here, c’mon, sleep in my room then, H.” Niall says, voice soft and a little scratchy in the darkness of the room. He takes Harry’s bag again, grabs his hand, and leads him down the hall to his room. 

 

“You didn’t have to do this. I can just sleep on the floor if you want.” Harry insists. 

 

“Bullshit, get undressed and climb up here.” Niall says sternly, lifting his own shirt over his head and sliding under the covers. Harry does as he’s told. Niall tentatively wraps his arms around his waist and shoves his face into Harry’s neck. Harry breathes in the smell of Niall and home. It’s warm and familiar, and for tonight, it’s enough. 

 

xxx

 

Harry continues to ignore Zayn until Zayn actively seeks him out. Which is, well, probably not the mature thing to do. But Harry never claimed to be mature. He finds him in the kitchen of Niall’s house party. 

 

Harry looks up at the tap on his shoulder and almost spits out his drink. His eyes flicker back and forth over the deserted room and slowly backs himself up against the counter. 

 

“Z—” Harry starts, setting his cup on the counter and wringing his hands together nervously. 

 

“We need to talk.” There it is. Zayn just stating the obvious. Harry shouldn’t have expected anything different. Harry bites his lip and forces his hands to rest against his sides, trying to keep his voice even.

 

“What about?” Harry knows. They both know.

 

“Louis.” Harry flinches. Zayn raises his eyebrows, but doesn’t say anything more. 

 

“Niall explained it to me. How things are. About Liam, too.” Zayn grits his teeth at the mention of Liam.

 

“It’s complicated.” Zayn supplies. 

 

“Well make it uncomplicated. Stop stringing him along. Both of them, in fact. Tell the bloody truth for once.” Harry growls. Zayn steps forward until his nose is almost pressed to Harry’s. 

 

“I’m not the one who's lying to Louis. He’s lying to himself.” 

 

“And Liam?” Harry challenges. 

 

“We’re not fucking talking about him. This is about Louis, and you know it.” Zayn snaps, taking a couple steps back. 

 

“Then you need to man the hell up and tell him what it is that you want from him, and if it’s  _ just  _ about the sex you can fuck off. I sincerely hope you get your shit together and let him go. I think you need Liam a lot more than you need him.” Harry snarls, clenching his hands into fists. 

 

Zayn is silent, his eyes wide and focused on something behind Harry. He turns on his heel to see Louis standing there, Liam not far behind. Louis is burning a hole into the side of Harry’s face, his jaw slack and the cup of amber liquid in his hand falling to the floor and spilling across the tile. 

 

“What the fuck is happening?” Liam asks, finally breaking the pregnant pause.

 

“You don’t need to protect me, Harry. I can take care of myself and you lost that privilege a  _ long  _ time ago.” Louis says, dangerously quiet and too calm for Harry’s liking. 

 

“Nothing. Nothing is happening.” Zayn says to Liam, but his voice cracks halfway through. Liam cringes, as if in sympathy. Louis turns on his heel and walks out of the kitchen, clutching Liam’s wrist and dragging him along. Liam turns his head around and shoots Zayn a look that says  _ I’m sorry  _ and  _ We need to talk  _ all at once. 

 

“I think you need to stay away from Louis.” Zayn sighs, scrubbing a hand over his tired face. 

 

“I think  _ you  _ are the one that needs to stay away from him.” Harry bites out, and with that, he leaves Niall’s house, out of the kitchen and through the back door, down the block to his car. 

 

xxx

 

Louis waits. He sits in their bedroom and stares at a pile of Zayn’s clothes. He looks at the comb lying on the dresser, the bottle of cologne with the top screwed off and thrown somewhere else. The tub of hair wax that they share on the beside table. His eyes burn.

 

He thinks about what Harry said. How Zayn looked at Liam. He already knows what’s coming next. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less. 

 

He tucks his feet under his bum when he hears the front door unlock and shut, clasps his hands in his lap and flicks his fringe out of his eyes. He hears the footsteps approaching the door, the soft knock before it creaks open and Zayn steps inside. Louis stares down at Zayn’s shoes instead of daring to meet his eyes. 

 

“Lou,” Zayn says softly, barely more than a whisper. Louis’ head snaps up to meet his gaze then, waits expectantly for the talk he’s been dreading. 

“Just fucking say it already.” Louis spits, his eyes hard and searching. Zayn breathes out a shaky breath and sits next to him, sets his hand on top of Louis’.

 

“I’m in love with Liam.” Louis squeezes his eyes shut tightly. He shoves Zayn away from him and stands to his feet, his back to him. 

 

“And? You’ve already fucked this whole thing up royally, Z, so please do tell, what is your plan? Because he’s barely spoken to me in months, and this is definitely not my fault. What makes you think he’ll listen to you?” Louis scrunches his nose up in distaste, clenches his fists and tries to keep the anger at bay, before he starts physically lashing out and throwing things. 

 

“I still wanna be friends with you, L. Let’s face it, that’s all we’ve ever been. Friends who fuck. I’m sorry about Liam. But it isn’t your place to ask me for answers, especially when I don’t have them yet. But I promise you, I’m gonna make this right.” Zayn replies sincerely. Louis bites his lip hard, turns to face Zayn. 

 

“Please, God, just get out. I can’t take this right now. Don’t talk to me for a while. Just grab your things and leave.” Louis groans, pinching the bridge of his nose before walking away out into the kitchen. He can’t bare to watch Zayn go through their room, take what’s his and then never come back. Not to the room, at the very least. Luckily, Zayn doesn’t own a lot to his name. He doesn’t care much for material possessions. Just his clothes and his hair products. 

 

He leaves Louis with a sad smile and a subdued salute in an attempt to lighten the mood between them. It gives Louis a sour taste in his mouth. 

 

xxx

 

Louis is alone. Harry spoke to Zayn, and Zayn spoke to Louis, and that’s it. Everything he thought he had known, obliterated in one fatal swoop. Zayn is gone. And so is every trace of him.

 

Louis has been lying to himself. And now he doesn’t have Zayn, and he doesn’t have Harry. He doesn’t have anyone or anything. Not even Niall, and definitely not Liam. He lost Liam when Zayn chose him. How is that even fair? It wasn’t Louis’ fault. None of it is his fault. He told Liam that night, at the party, that he didn’t really want Zayn, and he was sorry. Liam followed him around like a lost puppy that night, but they haven’t spoken since. 

 

Here he is, alone. Scared, and lonely, heartbreak from three years ago settling deep into his bones. He swears he has done nothing wrong. He has been wronged, by everyone and everything. It feels like the end of the world, but it sure as hell isn’t. 

 

It’s just the end of  _ his  _ world. Except, well, his world keeps on living without him, because his world isn’t his at all. His world is Harry, and he’s been fine without Louis for three years and counting. Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock.

 

Louis feels numb. Empty. He doesn’t have Harry. He doesn’t have anything at all. He just has himself. Suddenly, he’s back at square one. All that he has built has been brought to ruins. Somehow, it’s three years ago, there are tear tracks on his cheeks, he’s kneeling on his kitchen floor, and Harry is leaving all over again, Harry is  _ gone.  _

 

Everything is simultaneously different and exactly the same. But it’s worse.

 

xxx

 

It happens on a Friday. The beginning of Harry’s downfall. Well, okay, maybe not the beginning, probably somewhere in the middle. But, when he falls, it is anything but graceful. Harry is sitting on Niall’s couch, watching a shitty film, when his phone buzzes in his back pocket. Niall is making a sandwich in the kitchen. 

 

Harry wrangles his phone out of pocket of his jeans, and as soon as he looks at the lock screen, he wants to bury his head between the couch cushions. It’s only two words:

 

**_L <3: Come home._ **

 

He doesn’t know what to do with that. He doesn’t know how to respond if at all. He doesn’t know if Louis really means it. He doesn’t know if it’s a drunk text or he’s high off his ass, or possibly both. But there’s a small chance that he  _ does  _ mean it. A spark of hope flares in Harry’s chest as Niall plops back down onto the couch beside him, sandwich in hand. 

 

“Niall,” He says, trying to keep his voice even. Niall looks up, his eyebrows furrowing.

 

“Harry,” He replies dubiously. 

 

“I have to go.” He swallows hard, his hands clutching his thighs tightly. 

 

“Go where?” Niall raises an eyebrow, but there’s a smirk threatening to spread across his face, the corners of his mouth twitching. 

 

“Home.” He states simply, but it feels so good to say it, right then. He hasn’t been able to call that house his home in a really long fucking time. Technically it isn’t his home, not yet, and it may never be again, but it’s worth a shot. There’s a small chance it’ll work out the way he wants it to. He needs to take it.

 

“Wait, you mean Louis’?” Niall asks, but he’s grinning, because he already  _ knows  _ what home means, a stranger could figure it out just by the look on his face. Harry rolls his eyes, but doesn’t say anything. He stands up from the couch and grabs his coat, sliding it over his shoulders and buttoning it up. He makes it halfway to the door before Niall calls his name again.

 

He turns and sees Niall walking towards him, sandwich abandoned on the coffee table. Niall wraps his arms around Harry’s shoulders tentatively and squeezes hard. Harry squeezes back when he wishes him good luck. When he gets in his car and starts the engine, he pulls out his phone and types out a message.

 

**_On my way._ **

 

xxx

 

Louis is pacing. Pacing, and waiting. Pacing and waiting. He’s also biting his fingernails down to nubs. That’s probably not a very attractive habit. He doesn’t really care. He hears the soft rap on the door that he’s been waiting for and that’s. Oddly sobering, hearing the familiar knock of Harry’s knuckles against the wood. It’s exactly the same as it’s always been. He’s still not high enough for this. He’s pretty high right now, but it’ll never be high enough for this situation to be bearable. 

 

He sucks in a deep breath of air, fixes his fringe in the mirror, and opens the door. 

 

“I’m surprised you actually showed up.” is the first thing Louis says. How fucking stupid is he? Get it together, Tomlinson. 

 

“I’m surprised you texted me at all.” Harry raises an eyebrow challengingly, pushing his way through the door frame and sliding his boots off his feat, unbuttoning his jacket and hanging it in the closet by the bathroom. Louis just tracks his movements down the hall and back, until Harry’s standing in front of him, clad in black-socked feet and a cozy, funky patterned jumper, black skinnies painted on as always. Louis’ throat burns. 

 

“How about we talk about how you left and didn’t say goodbye. No explanation, nothing. Left me in the fucking dust.” Louis covers his mouth, as if he hadn’t meant to say that (he  _ didn’t _ ) and squeezes his eyes shut tightly, waiting for a reaction. 

 

“ _ Jesus _ , Lou, can we sit down first? You’re high as a kite, I don’t know how much you’ll remember of this anyway.” Louis just nods, because his head already feels awfully fuzzy and confused, and it isn’t pleasant like it was a half hour ago. Harry’s right, anyhow. He can’t remember conversations for shit when he’s this far gone. 

 

“Why’d you text me?” Harry says, once they’re situated on the couch, a few inches between them, but it feels like a chasm. 

“I wanted you to come home,” Louis mumbles, shrugging, and then he realizes how stupid that sounds and shakes his head at himself. He can see Harry’s throat bob when he swallows. 

 

“This isn’t my home anymore, L.” Harry tells him gently, but his voice sounds strained, his eyes a bit glossy. 

 

“I want it to be, if you would just — explain to me, what you were thinking when you left and didn’t come back.” Louis hiccups, rubbing at his eyes. 

 

“I can’t do this now, not when you’re like this and you won’t remember half the things I said.” Harry shakes his head, frowning. Louis wants to fight back, but his tongue feels a bit twisted, and he just wants everything to go back to the way it was. 

 

“Okay.” He replies instead. He fidgets, his hands clasped together in his lap. Harry scoots closer to him, till their thighs are touching, and a warm feeling spreads through Louis’ chest. Yes, this is what he wanted. Human touch. Harry’s touch, specifically. He knows it’s wrong, when they haven’t solved anything, but he wants it so bad. 

 

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you high.” Harry whispers, even though it’s just the two of them and the expanse of the silent flat. Louis giggles, covers his mouth with the back of his hand as his eyes crinkle. 

 

“Do you want some? I can go get it.” Louis supplies, before he can remind himself that this is a bad fucking idea. Harry looks a bit hesitant, but he can see the moment his resolve crumbles. 

 

“Sure, why not. Just a bit of fun, right?” Harry smiles, small, only lifting one side of his mouth, but it’s a genuine one. Louis nods, stands up from the couch and almost trips a couple of times, but makes it down the hall and opens the drawer where he keeps his stash. He pulls out a joint, pre-rolled, and walks back down the hall, lighter a heavy weight in his pocket. 

 

He hands Harry the lighter, sticks the joint between his lips and gestures for Harry to light it. He can see Harry swallow hard before he leans forward and flicks the lighter to life. Louis inhales deeply, holds it in his lungs as long as he can, and exhales slowly. Harry’s eyes linger on his mouth. Louis hands the joint to Harry, turns his head and smiles into his shoulder so he won’t see it. 

 

“So, what’ve you been doing since you’ve been back in London?” Louis asks, turning his head to watch Harry inhale the smoke. He takes a minute, holding it in the back of his throat before puffing it out haphazardly. 

 

“Honestly? Not anything fun. It’s been a mess, with you, and, well, you know who.” Harry sighs. Louis takes the joint back from Harry’s fingers and brings it to his mouth. He doesn’t answer. He refuses to talk about this when he’s pleasantly fuzzy and warm and horny. He takes a long drag and doesn’t think twice, just places his free hand on the back of Harry’s neck and presses their mouths together, forcing Harry’s lips apart to blow the smoke into him. Harry inhales sharply, making a high noise in the back of his throat before he pulls back and coughs. Harry stares at him with wide eyes, but Louis just continues talking like nothing happened, hands the joint to Harry and closes his eyes while he tilts his head back towards the ceiling. 

 

“What’s it like?” Louis asks, trying to steer the topic to something with less heat. Harry’s eyes look dazed, and he asks Louis to repeat the question when he’s finally unfrozen, takes a drag and blows it up above his head, works his jaw and tries to make smoke rings, failing miserably. 

 

“What’s  _ what  _ like?” Harry raises an eyebrow at him, puts the joint back in Louis’ hand.

 

“Being famous. You’re  _ the  _ Harry Styles, y’know that?” Louis chuckles bitterly. Harry can hear the envy in his voice, and he instantly feels bad. 

 

“It’s….not what I thought it would be.” Harry settles on, moving to sit on his hands. Louis takes a long drag, pulls Harry forward by the collar and presses their lips together again. Harry doesn’t move, and Louis eventually pulls back and watches Harry let the smoke leak back out of his mouth, making the air foggy around them. Louis keeps his fingers where they are, gripping Harry’s shirt and revealing his collarbone. 

 

“Was it worth it? Leaving me for the posh life?” Louis says, but his voice isn’t accusing, just tired, and sad. Harry shakes his head, reaches for Louis’ other hand and takes the joint from him again. 

 

“I don’t think so. I immediately regretted it, but I promised myself I wouldn’t come crawling back, not after what I did to you before.” Louis’ eyes grow harder, colder, icy blue in the dim light and the cloud of smoke dissipating between them. 

 

“You can’t even say it, can you? Can’t look me in the eye and tell me what it is you did to me, can’t even apologize. You clearly don’t regret leaving me behind as much as you think you do.” Louis’ voice breaks on the last couple of words, wavering as his eyes start to sting. Harry doesn’t know what to say to that, knows he looks like an idiot with his mouth wide open and his heart racing in his chest, eyes glassy as he looks at the only boy he’s ever loved. He does the only thing he can think of.

 

He brings the end of the joint back to his lips, sucks in a lungful and stubs it out on the table, turns to see Louis looking at him with confusion. Harry shuffles forward, till their knees are touching, leans in and grips Louis’ face with both hands, and smashes their lips together once more before he can argue. He licks into his mouth, floods Louis with the sour taste on his tongue, watches the smoke evaporate when they break apart, stares at the string of saliva connecting his mouth to Louis’ before he goes back in. 

 

Louis goes boneless, falls into Harry so their chests are pressed together, and lets Harry fuck into his mouth with his tongue. Harry lets his hands trail down Louis’ sides, rests them on his lower back and slants their mouths together, harder, wetter, faster. Louis pushes Harry back by the shoulders, shoves him into the couch cushions and straddles him, tucks his legs up underneath himself, framing Harry’s thighs with his hips. Harry forces himself to pull back when Louis starts grinding down against him, grabs Louis by the sides and forces him to stop moving.

 

Louis whimpers, looks up at him in confusion, his eyes wild and desperate. 

 

“Louis, I don’t think this is a good idea. Kissing is one thing, but we can’t just pretend everything is okay. We weren’t even speaking to each other an hour ago.” Harry says, trying to be the logical one, but his head feels like cotton candy, and Louis is warm on his lap, and he squeezes his hips between his big hands, feeling his resolve start to crumble. 

 

“Har _ ry,”  _ Louis whines. “ _ Fucking  _ is fun. Feelings, however, are not. So either touch me, or get out. Your choice.” Louis bats his eyelashes and looks up through them at him. Harry groans and lets his head fall back against the couch, Louis’ mouth trailing over his neck. 

 

“Can we just...grind, tonight?” Harry asks, bites his lip after he lets the words out, almost wishes he hadn’t. 

 

Louis looks back up at him, attaches their lips together again and sucks on his tongue. 

 

“Don’t care, as long as your hands are on my ass.” Louis pants against his mouth. Harry lets out a pitiful moan, feels his cock twitch against where Louis’ bum is firmly planted in his lap. Harry slots a thigh between Louis’ legs, twitches his hips up to start a rhythm. He lets his hands trail down Louis’ back, reaches the curve of his ass and slides down to squeeze his cheeks, hard through the black denim, and chances a glance down to see how it looks.

 

He shuts his eyes quickly, feels like he might come just from seeing how perfectly Louis fits in the palms of his hands, bites Louis’ bottom lip and tugs it harshly as Louis starts to grind down onto him harder, his hips stuttering erratically. It’s better than he thought it would be, being this close to Louis, feeling him against him. The funny thing is, it’s hardly  _ anything  _ compared to what they could be doing, but it feels so good, too good to ever want to stop. Harry grips Louis’ ass tightly, spreads his cheeks and ruts up into him, their tongues touching and their mouths breathing each other in. 

 

It’s over too quickly. Louis leans over to whisper into Harry’s ear, grips his shoulder like a vice, and says:

 

“Next time, you should eat me out.” His breath is hot as he pants against Harry’s skin. Harry’s body seizes up as he comes, his vision whiting out and his cock spurting in his boxers, making them sticky. It will probably be uncomfortable in a few minutes, but Harry could care less when he’s still got a handful of Louis’ ass and Louis is shaking apart against him. He feels Louis’ cock moving against his thigh, wants to beg to suck Louis’ spent dick, but he keeps his mouth shut and breathes deeply through his nose as he waits for Louis to open his eyes. 

 

Louis’ eyelashes flutter a couple of minutes later, and then he’s coyly looking up at Harry. 

 

“Did I mention weed makes me horny?” 

 

xxx

 

Things go back to the way they were. Mostly. Harry stays in the house they shared for all of two months when they were young and stupid. Louis doesn’t talk to him. Harry lets the silence reign. He’s tired of putting in all the effort, tired of apologizing when he can’t form his thoughts into the proper words. They act like nothing ever happened. They hang out with Niall and act like everything is fine. They both avoid Zayn. Liam is...neutral now. He speaks to them both, although he’s still sore towards Louis, and overall mopey because Zayn hasn’t fixed the situation like he promised he would. Not that Liam knew about that being a plan, let alone a promise to Louis, but more importantly, a promise to Zayn himself. 

 

It’s all a matter of someone to jump start something between the lot of them. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. Everything is hanging by a single, precariously balanced thread. It isn’t good. But it isn’t as bad as before, either. The thing that tips them over the edge of the cliff, into the gigantic fucking abyss, turns out to be Niall. As it should be, as it  _ always  _ seems to be. 

 

Harry should’ve suspected something when Niall invited him to a fancy dinner, not a pub night. He hadn’t specified who would be there, but as soon as he walks through the door and sees Louis there, along with Liam and Zayn, he wants to turn right back around and leave. He’s so fucking stupid for being dragged into this so easily. 

 

Niall raises his hand and gives Harry a sheepish smile, gesturing for him to come to their booth in the corner. He slides in on the side of the booth with room left, right next to Louis. The air between all of them is tense, except for Niall, who attempts to make this seem perfectly normal. Harry scoots as far away from Louis as possible, so they aren’t touching at all, and shoots a sympathetic smile at Liam, whose pressed into the window next to Zayn. 

 

They’re silent, except for Niall’s rambunctious chattering, and once they place their orders, Harry notices Louis’ leg jiggling, moving up and down under the table to a nervous rhythm. He almost reaches out to stop it, place a warm, big palm on Louis’ muscled thigh, but then he remembers that he isn’t allowed to touch him at all anymore. Harry draws his arms in tight towards his body as if he’s been burned, glares down at the tabletop and traces a swirl in the pattern with his index finger. 

 

Louis picks up his tea and fumbles it because his hands are shaking. He spills it all over his lap, bites back a scream but lets out a stream of curses. Harry is frozen, staring at the wet patch spreading across the black denim covering Louis’ crotch, deja vu crawling up his throat, but it also feels a lot like bile. He’s reliving the thing he had once, the thing he probably won’t ever have again. His cock twitches at the memory, watches as Louis grits his teeth and grabs a pile of napkins from the holder, pats the wet spot quickly before crumpling them up in his fist and holding onto them tightly, as if his life depends on it. 

 

Niall asks Louis if he’s okay. Harry stays silent. Zayn looks as if he wants to pet Louis’ hair. Liam is frowning. Harry turns away from all of them when his food arrives, picking at his plate with his fork absent-mindedly. Niall kicks him in the shin under the table. Harry looks up and sees Zayn whispering in Liam’s ear. Liam looks kind of like he can’t decide whether to punch him or kiss him. He settles for taking a sip of his drink and letting Zayn put his arm over his shoulders. Harry almost wants to glare at them. It just isn’t that easy for him. 

 

He looks at Louis in his peripheral vision, too afraid to turn his head and look him in the eyes. Louis is staring intently at the arm Zayn has draped around Liam’s shoulders. He seems to shake himself then, blinks down at his dinner and reaches for the refilled cup of tea carefully. He swallows hard, and, to Harry’s surprise, turns to face him. Harry stays still, acts like he hasn’t noticed anything. He feels a light tap on his shoulder. 

 

He slowly turns to look at him, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Can I talk to you outside?” Harry sighs, as if it’s a chore, but his heart starts to race in his chest erratically. He nods, dropping his fork and throwing his napkin on the table as he slides out of the booth. He shoves his thumbs through his belt loops as he waits for Louis to stand, watches him slip his jean jacket over his shoulders and walk ahead of Harry towards the front doors and pushes them open. Harry catches his wrist once they’re outside, because Louis may be small, and Harry’s legs may be abnormally long, but Louis can move fucking fast when he wants to. It’s his strong thighs, probably. Lots of power in them. Not that Harry’s thinking about that. No, definitely not. 

 

Louis huffs and turns on his heel to face him, like a whiny five-year old. Then again, Louis always acts like that. It’s just particularly annoying when Harry isn’t speaking to him. Louis pulls out of Harry’s lose grip and clenches his jaw. 

 

“Well?” Harry smirks, one half of his mouth lifting up higher than the other, revealing a dimple, in that infuriating way that he knows Louis hates when he’s pissed. 

 

“Do you think Zayn finally told Liam?” Louis blurts, his eyes widening and his hand covering his own mouth as if he hadn’t meant to say it at all. Harry’s eyebrows raise in shock. He had expected this conversation to be something else entirely. Then he realizes that Louis is stalling. He wants to roll his eyes but he just breathes out a long gust of air. 

 

“Told him what?” Harry says, looking up at the star filled night sky instead of Louis. 

 

“That he broke up with me...and that he’s in love with Li.” Louis is searching through his pockets frantically for something, his fingers scrabbling over his pockets. Harry steps closer to him, grabs his wrists to stop him from moving. Louis’ head snaps up to glare at him. Harry holds onto both his wrists and carefully plucks the pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket, hidden underneath the fleece of the inside of his coat. He drops Louis’ hands, opens the pack, and slides two out. He hands Louis one of them and tucks the pack back into his shirt and pulls a lighter out of his own pocket. 

 

“Since they looked pretty cozy, I’m gonna say yeah. What’s this really about, Lou?” Harry says through his teeth, his lips closed around the cigarette hanging out of his mouth as he brings the lighter up to light it. He blows a stream of smoke out of his mouth and connects the lit end of the cig to Louis’. Louis nods as a thanks and brings it up to his lips, leans his head back to look up at the sky the same way Harry is. 

 

“I just feel like everyone leaves. You, Zayn, and now Liam hardly even talks to me. My mum is a good two hours away, as well as my sisters, and I haven’t talked to any of them in over a week. God, I’m such a shitty person, how could I blame you?” Louis groans. When Harry looks over again, Louis has his hip leaned against the brick building, his legs crossed and his forehead against the top of his forearm propped against the wall. Harry takes a long drag before he speaks.

 

“I came back though, L. I’m right here. I’m not leaving again.” Harry whispers, and he presses his front to Louis’ back, stubs the cigarette out with his foot and wraps his arms around Louis’ waist. Louis leans back into his weight and sucks hard on the filter before he puts it out against the brick. Louis turns in his arms, so Harry can see the look on his face. Louis licks his lips and leans his forehead against Harry’s.

 

“Bullshit. You can’t promise me anything. So don’t,” Louis shrugs one shoulder, and Harry trails a hand up Louis’ side to trace Louis’ ribs, his body heat burning through the jacket like a fire that can’t be put out. Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s neck and pulls at the stringy curls at the back of his head gently. 

 

“Just tell me why you left me all alone without saying goodbye, H. I’ll accept your apology. I won’t fucking like it, and I won’t trust you, but I’ll accept it. You tell me the truth now, or you stay the fuck away from me.” Louis purses his lips and he leans back to give Harry his best piercing stare. It’s very effective in getting Harry to spill his guts. Harry takes in a gulp of air, can still feel the smoke burning the back of his throat, and squeezes his eyes shut tightly. 

 

“It was never about the girl, was it? You said you forgave me for that already. You were afraid. You wanted an excuse to tell me to piss off. I know we were young, Lou, but I knew what I wanted. You just kept pushing me away, what did you expect me to do? I would’ve done anything you asked me to. I had my heart set on you, but I had to find something else. I couldn’t replace you with girl after girl, or boy after boy. I stopped trying after the first time. I know I left and I didn’t say anything, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t care, or that I didn’t think about you all the time. I was afraid, so I focused on my career. That’s all I could do. I had to work up the courage just to fucking come back here and face you. We were both so scared, but God, Louis, if you asked me to stay, I would have, can’t you see that?” Harry heaves in a deep breath, his cheeks flushed in the cold air and his eyes wild and desperate as he looks down at Louis’ face.

 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t brave enough to ask you to stay. But I didn’t actually think you’d fucking leave, let alone for three years without even saying anything to me. You could’ve called. I had to hear it from Zayn, saw you on the cover of a fucking tabloid when you hadn’t spoken to me in over a year. I couldn’t escape you. You’re everywhere. You got all the freedom you wanted, away from me, and all I had was Niall and Zayn, at best. I can’t forgive you for leaving me like that. You can’t pin this all on me. It was still your decision.” Louis doesn’t look angry. Exhausted, and heartbroken, though. 

 

“You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met. More brave than I could ever hope to be. And I’m truly sorry, Louis. Just give me another chance.” Harry pleads as Louis steps back from him, detangling their bodies. Louis fixes the lapel of his coat and doesn’t look at him again.

 

“I’ve given you too many chances already, H. I can’t do this anymore. Not here, not now. Have a nice life.” Louis stuffs his hands in his pockets and goes back inside the restaurant. Harry slides down the bricks and puts his head in his hands while the tears fall onto the knees of his jeans. 

 

xxx

 

Louis doesn’t talk to Harry for three months. Harry moves back in with Niall. Louis invites Lottie to stay with him for a couple of weeks, when he can’t bare being alone any longer. It’s spring break, so fuck that. She comes through the door, takes one look at his face, and drops her bags with an oddly perceptive look on her face.

 

“What’s wrong?” She asks, walking up to him and wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. He breathes in the familiar smell of her perfume and tries to muster up a smile. She narrows her eyes at him, as if she can already tell bullshit is going to come out of his mouth. He sighs defeatedly, his shoulders sagging.

 

“Everything, Lotts. Everything is wrong.” She walks down the hall and sets her bag on the bed in the guest room before paddling out in just her fuzzy socks, and leads Louis to the couch with a hand on his shoulder before sitting down next to him. 

 

“Zayn?” She says, putting her hair up into a high pony tail as she searches his face. Louis groans.

 

“No. Yes. Zayn, and Liam. But mostly Harry.” Louis admits. 

 

“ _ Harry? _ ” Lottie whispers disbelievingly. Louis nods sagely. 

 

“Isn’t he like, a multi-millionaire rock star who's traveling the world on tour?” She raises her eyebrows. 

 

“That’s the one. He’s on a break, though, as of January.” Lottie stares at him.

 

“He came back three months ago and you didn’t tell me?” She pops her gum menacingly. Louis winces. 

 

“I didn’t tell anyone. The only other people who knew were the boys. I didn’t wanna talk about it.” Louis huffs. 

 

“What happened with Zayn?” She pokes him in the ribs. He scrunches up his nose and rubs his side, shifting his weight back and forth uneasily. 

 

“He dumped me ‘cause he realized he was in love with Liam.” Louis sighs, running a hand through his fringe. 

 

“Didn’t everyone already know that?” Lottie snorts. Louis glares at her.

 

“I knew he liked him too. I refused to see how much, apparently. It doesn’t matter anymore. This is about Haz.” Louis purses his lips. 

 

“Did he break your heart, or are you just being over dramatic?” Lottie gives him a sympathetic smile. 

 

“No, he did. Well, yes and no. He sort of broke my heart twice and then I proceeded to break his. He deserved it, don’t look at me like that.” Louis says haughtily. 

 

“There’s something you’re not telling me.” Louis picks at a loose thread on his jeans. 

 

“He apologized for leaving. He explained to me why he did the things he did. I understand it now. But that doesn’t change anything.” Louis shakes his head, a little vehemently.

 

“Doesn’t it, though? What’s the point, Lou. Is it really worth it to make him suffer while simultaneously doing the same thing to yourself to teach him a lesson? It’s been three years. You’re both adults now. Fucking  _ act _ like it.” She shoves him lightly in the shoulder.

 

“You kiss our mum with that mouth? Who bloody told you that you could talk to your older brother like that? Respect your elders.” Louis sniffs, mock offended with a hand held to his chest as if he’s clutching imaginary pearls. Lottie rolls her eyes at him but her lips twitch into a fond smile. 

 

“Go talk to him, you git. He’s suffered long enough, I think you’ve showed him who’s boss.” Lottie stands from the couch and jumps over his legs. 

 

“I’m not a boss, I’m a  _ King. _ ” Louis retorts. 

 

“King Louis? Never heard of you.” Lottie sticks her tongue out at him before she disappears down the hall to the guest room. 

 

Louis can do this. He’s a king. He’s the king of the world. Okay, maybe not quite. But he’s king enough to fix the heart he broke. He’s enough of a king to mend Harry Styles’ heart. 


	2. part two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took way longer than i wanted it to yikes!!! originally there was supposed to be more smut in this but im lazy lol sorry. i hope you enjoy it anyhow! thanks for reading xx

“What the fuck are you doing?” Louis asks.

 

“Um,” Harry supplies uncomfortably. “Trying to fix the smoke alarm?” He says it like it’s a question, his voice lilting upwards at the end. He’s standing on a step ladder, his jumper riding up and showing a sliver of pale, milky skin. 

 

“Get down from there.” Louis demands, and it’s  _ not  _ just because the skin that’s visible at Harry’s waist is incredibly distracting. He came here for a reason. Harry narrows his eyes, but obediently steps down back onto the floor and turns to face Louis, hands clasped behind his back. 

 

“What could you possibly have to say to me? You haven’t spoken to me in three months, so this better be fucking good—” Harry starts, before Louis takes a step forward and cuts him off.

 

“I’m sorry. For not trusting you, and refusing to give you another chance. That was stupid. When you suffer, I suffer. I don’t see why I should put you through any more of that. We’re inevitable, Haz. I couldn’t stop this if I tried. Not forever, at least.” Louis sighs, his shoulders slumping with the admission. Harry stares at him, his eyes wide and glassy, his hands falling to his sides in shock. Then Harry looks angry again. Oh, no. That isn’t how this was supposed to go,  _ fuck.  _ Why can’t Louis just have this one thing, the person he wants most? 

 

“You can’t just toss me aside and then suddenly decide I’m good enough. I’m sorry I left, and I told you I wouldn’t do it again. But then you left me. You can’t expect me to just take you back without any fuss.” Harry grits out, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Louis looks into his eyes, searching desperately for something. 

 

“I know I don’t make all the decisions in this relationship, love. I meant I’m here, but only if you’ll have me. I’d wait a lifetime for this, because it’s worth it. I’m quite the miserable bastard without you.” Louis says softly, his mouth quirking in a self-deprecating smile. Harry continues to try to look disgruntled, but his eyes are sparkling in a way that only Louis has ever seen. It’s been such a long time. 

 

“Why should I give you another chance?” Harry whispers into the quietness of the flat around them. 

 

“Because I’m only asking you for a second chance, H. You asked me for plenty more than that, and I gave it to you. Bloody hell, you could ask me for the moon and I’d give it to you.” Louis chuckles. Harry rolls his eyes, partly because he wants to make Louis sweat a little more, and partly because he’s in love with an idiot. A sappy one, at that. Not that Harry is much better. Then, he smiles, and it’s like the sun coming up over the horizon. Warm and bright, happy to share his light. 

 

“Mmm, I’ll have to think about it. You’re not a Prince, see, and I happen to want to rule the world. Might you know one?” Harry giggles. Louis shouts in mock outrage. 

 

“A Prince? I’m a King, you knob!” Louis bellows, biting his lower lip and stepping closer to Harry. 

 

“Does that make me a Princess, or a Queen?” Harry sways into Louis’ space, grabbing his hands. 

 

“You can be whatever you want to be, baby.” Louis smiles so hard his cheeks are starting to ache. 

 

“I thought I was a knob.” Harry sniffs haughtily. Louis heaves a fake put upon sigh. 

 

“More like a snob.” Louis snickers. Harry gasps, letting go of one of Louis’ hands to put his palm up to his chest.

 

“How dare you! Take that back!” Harry shrieks, and promptly tackles Louis to the floor. All is as it should be. 

 

xxx

 

A month later, Louis pads down the stairs, feet and chest bare with his sweatpants slung low on his hips, a glint in his eye that should probably be a bit worrying now, a sure sign of trouble, but Harry is usually up for anything. Pun fully intended. Harry is fully dressed, skinny jeans and lacy button up firmly in place, because he’s supposed to meet Nick, Liam, and Zayn for drinks in a half hour, but the pub is only a couple of blocks away, a ten minute walk at most. 

 

Harry stands behind the counter, stirring his tea and sliding it across the counter because he knows Louis is going to steal it anyway. Louis glances down at it, crinkles his nose up, and sashays around the counter to stand in front of Harry. Which is, well. Louis never turns down tea. Warning bells should be going off in Harry’s head right now. He just stares at Louis, who's looking up at him through his eyelashes with a coy little smile on his face. Louis places his palms against Harry’s bare chest. 

 

“Good morning, my wonderful boyfriend, light of my life, apple of my eye, my love.” Louis grins devilishly, his sharp canines visible. Harry shudders a little. 

 

“That sentence doesn’t even make sense.” Harry replies, if a bit weakly. 

 

“Sure it does, darling. Anyway, where are you off to?” Louis rasps, trailing his hands down Harry’s sides till he can wrap them around his waist and squeeze himself between Harry and the counter. Which wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary, except Louis is quiet. He’s soft, pliant, and oddly subdued, like he’s actively trying to seduce when there isn’t a need for it any longer. 

 

“Drinks with the boys. Did you want to come?” Harry says, swallowing hard. Louis raises his eyebrows and tries not to laugh at the implications of that sentence. He’s a man on a mission. Louis shakes his head and purses his lips, hollows his cheeks in the way he knows drives Harry crazy. He hears Harry’s sharp intake of breath and tries not to smirk too blatantly. 

 

“Mmm, no, I don’t think so. Do you?” Harry’s only warning is a dirty little grin before one of Louis’ hands slide down the front of his trousers and the other grips his ass firmly. Harry gasps, loud in the quiet of the kitchen. Louis palms at his length lazily, stroking it with the few fingers he can fit in without it being too awkward of an angle. Harry shoves him back harder against the counter and pulls the hand in his jeans out. He unbuttons them feverently, shoves them far enough down his thighs so he can pull his cock out of his pants, and leans forward to press himself against Louis, using the friction from Louis’ thigh to get off. 

 

Louis pulled the wallet out of his jeans as he’d pushed them down and quickly tucked it into the baggy pocket of his sweats without Harry realizing. Success. Louis grins at him like the Cheshire cat, which he’d make a joke about if his head wasn’t so fuzzy and muddled with the need for release. 

 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Louis chuckles, leaning his forehead against Harry’s. Harry grunts, a little bit animalistic, and Louis can’t help but be satisfied with his work, and he hardly had to do any at all. Harry grabs Louis’ hips, holding on tightly and ruts himself forwards even harder. Louis can feel the ache in his lower back start up, but it’s the best kind. The kind he’ll want to remember. 

 

He wraps his arms around Harry’s neck and connects their lips together, a hot, wet suck, before Harry pulls back a little to suck in a deep breath and finally say something. 

 

“God, you’re  _ insatiable _ .” Harry growls, letting his hand trace the outside seam of Louis’ sweatpants, dangerously close to the wallet, and Louis tries not to tense. Harry doesn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary, and lets his hand trail to Louis’ ass. 

 

“I don’t —  _ oh _ —  see you complaining.” Louis says, a little breathily, now that he’s finally letting his cock take interest in the activities. 

 

“It was a compliment.” Harry smirks, and  _ fuck,  _ there’s the deep dimple in his left cheek. Louis pulls him in again, biting on his bottom lip and tangling their tongues together. Louis reaches his hand down to grab Harry’s cock and stroke it, quick and fast with intent. Harry attaches his lips to his neck and sucks a bruise into his skin, licking over it with his tongue to soothe the sting. 

 

“ _ Lou!” _ Harry wails into his skin as he comes, coating Louis’ fist in white. Harry smiles down at him dazedly as Louis licks the come off his fingers while he leans against the counter, his cock tenting the material of his sweatpants. Harry takes a reluctant step back and tucks his cock back into his pants, pulling his jeans back up his thighs and zipping them up with clumsy fingers. Louis leans forward to button them for him and send him away with a kiss to his cheek. 

 

“What about you?” Harry asks, his eyes wide and imploring. The flush in his cheeks is dark, pink and pretty. Louis pinches it lightly between his fingers before he carefully walks around the counter before answering. 

 

“I’ll be fine. You can take care of me when you get back.” Louis says, his expression a bit impish. 

 

“If you’re sure.” Harry replies seriously, as if the matter is life and death. Louis nods encouragingly and shoos him out the door. He snickers to himself as he pulls out Harry’s credit card. He’s an international rockstar. How much money could he  _ possibly  _ need? 

 

xxx

 

Harry realizes he doesn’t have his wallet on him when he offers to pay for the next round at the bar and he can’t find it in his back pocket. Harry huffs, apologizes to the bartender, and walks back to their table to explain to the boys that he forgot his wallet. Zayn raises his eyebrows pointedly. 

 

“Sure Louis didn’t steal it, mate?” Liam is smirking beside him, their hands intertwined underneath the table. 

 

“Why would he?” Harry splutters, bewildered. Nick coughs across the booth and unlocks his phone, holding up a finger for him to wait as he opens his messages and turns the screen to show Harry. 

 

It’s a picture of Louis, holding a pretty gift bag and a cheesy smile on his face. His eyes scan the page, looking till he settles on the message underneath the picture. 

 

_ You’ll never guess what I got! I admit, I feel a bit like a gold digger… _

 

Harry hands Nick his phone back, his eyebrows furrowed. 

 

“What could he possibly—?” Harry starts, before Liam cuts him off.

 

“C’mon, lad. You know what those kind of gift bags are for.” Liam wiggles his eyebrows. Harry’s eyes widen comically, and he chokes on his spit a little before composing himself, though he’s sure he looks red in the face. 

 

“Glad to see you two sorted out your shit.” Zayn winks. Harry raises a pointed eyebrow at their connected hands.

 

“You too. Listen, I need to head back, like, yesterday. Don’t miss me too much.” He blows them an air kiss and slides his phone out as he starts the trek back home. Harry calls Louis, a picture of him with frosting spread across his cheek appearing below the contact name,  _ Lou  _ with the peach emoji next to it. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Besides, can you really blame him?

 

“Hello, Harold. Done with drinks so soon?” Louis says, if a bit breathily. Harry can tell he’s smirking from here. 

 

“What are you doing?” Harry wraps his jacket tighter around himself as he walks, smiling down at the concrete because his boy is truly the strangest person alive. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to know what he has planned, though. 

 

“What ever do you mean?” Louis giggles, his voice high and bubbly. 

 

“Nick showed me the picture.” Harry swallows hard as he rounds the corner, just a few minutes away from Louis’ tantalizing voice and bright eyes. He can feel his blood thrumming in excitement. 

 

“Oh good! Did you see the message? I’m sure you did. Sorry about the pick pocketing, but you’re the rich one here, not me. I wanted it to be a surprise, of course.” Louis chuckles. 

 

“Just because you stole my credit card to surprise me with something - that doesn’t qualify as you being a gold digger, twat.” Harry rolls his eyes fondly.

 

“Mmm, let me have my fun. It makes me feel dirty.” Harry bites his lip hard, quickens his pace when he can see the house, windows lit up down at the end of the street. 

 

“Tell me what’s in the bag.” Harry demands, his voice coming out choppy and low. 

 

“I’ll show you. Fucking get here, Christ, do you walk as slow as you speak?” Louis teases, but Harry can hear how uneven his breaths are. 

 

“Give me a hint.” Harry tries, only a minute away now. 

 

“Red, pink, and rainbow. Those are the colors of the things I bought.” Louis states, sniffing haughtily.

 

“That’s not a hint, that’s a fact.” Harry pouts. 

 

“Oi, fuck off and get in here already.” The line goes dead, and Harry tucks his phone into his jacket as he makes his way up the stairs and opens the door with ease, always unlocked when one of them is home. He hurriedly kicks off his boots and throws his jacket over the back of the couch, sprinting across the room and down the hall to where their bedroom door is ajar. It’s dark inside, but he knows Louis couldn’t be anywhere else. 

 

He pushes the door open without preamble, lets his eyes adjust to the dark room before he steps forward and looks down at Louis’ form, on the bed with the covers up to his chest, a mock innocent look on his face, big kitten eyes and long lashes. Harry narrows his eyes at him, unbuttons the bottom of his shirt and slides it down his arms, lets it fall down to the floor in a pile. Louis’ eyes slink up and down his chest, settling on his v-line and pointedly raising an eyebrow at him. Harry puffs out a heavy breath and unbuttons his jeans, shimmies them down his thighs and past his calves, leaves them next to his shirt. 

 

He slides under the covers next to Louis, an inch away from touching the heat radiating from his golden skin. Louis rolls onto his side and brushes their noses together, the duvet still firmly clutched to his chest. He slowly releases his grip and puts his hands on Harry’s cheeks. 

 

“Take it off.” He whispers, his gaze burning into Harry’s. Harry swallows hard and lifts his hands up to the top of the duvet, inching it down Louis’ chest and past his thighs till he kicks it down to the end of the bed a little impatiently. He sucks in a sharp breath, can’t tear his eyes away from the tight, almost transparent red material clinging to Louis’ thighs, all the way down to his feet. He looks up at Louis with wide eyes, lets his hand trail down Louis’ stomach, past his cock, so he can slide a hand up and down the outside of his thigh. 

 

“Beautiful, as always, Lou.” Harry breathes out shakily. Louis looks like he’s trying not to smirk, but his chest is heaving, a tell tale sign that there’s more. 

 

“Turn me over.” Louis bites his lip. Harry furrows his eyebrows, but complies. He lets out a choked moan, tracing over his rim, gaping open obscenely around a hot pink vibrator. Harry takes a deep breath, tries to compose himself for whatever comes next, because at this point he’s not really sure. 

 

“Red, pink...what’s rainbow?” Harry whispers, stares up at Louis’ eyes, glinting in the pale light coming from the window. Louis bites back a smirk, rolls to the edge of the bed and pulls something out from underneath and holds it out in his palms. Silk. Rainbow. 

 

“Scarves?” Harry thinks he knows where this is going. A giggle bubbles it’s way up Louis’ throat, and he twirls one of the scarves around his wrist. 

 

“I figured you could tie me up while you fuck me.” Louis says it easily, almost as casual as he would talk about the weather. 

 

“ _ Jesus Christ, _ ” Harry kind of wants to cry.

 

“Is that a yes?” Louis kicks his thigh, his expression impish. Harry’s skin feels like it’s on fire. 

 

“On your back, in the middle of the bed.” Harry settles on, sitting on his haunches to pull his boxers down his thighs, sliding them off and to the floor. Louis looks as if he’s ready to open his mouth and protest, but Harry gives him a stern look and he shuts his mouth, shuffling into place. 

 

The vibrator is off, so Harry moves between his legs and pulls it out slowly. Louis whimpers, shuts his eyes tight as he’s left clenching and empty. He wipes the vibrator off on the duvet and puts it underneath the bed. He takes the scarves from Louis’ hands, wraps one around his wrist and ties it to the left bedpost, knotting it quickly before wrapping the other around his right wrist and tying it to the right bedpost. 

 

“Tight enough?” Harry asks, leaning above Louis, his big palms holding onto Louis’ bare chest. Louis gives him a dirty grin, and Harry refrains from rolling his eyes, pressing their chests together as he leans farther down and connects their lips together. Harry whines into his mouth, letting their tongues tangle as his hands slide down Louis’ rib cage and settle at his hips. Harry pulls back after a couple of minutes, panting against Louis’ cheek before moving back between Louis’ thighs. 

 

He trails kisses up the inside of his thighs, leans over the side of the bed to reach into the night stand and pull out the bottle of lube. He snaps the cap open, coats three of his fingers before closing it and chucking it across the room without a care. He keeps one hand moving back and forth against Louis’ upper thigh, sliding a fingertip under the material of his thigh highs. He pulls on the hem, lets it snap back hard enough to make Louis gasp. 

 

Harry circles Louis’ rim with two fingers, pushing in slowly up to the knuckle. Louis kicks out a leg, pulling on the restraints around his wrists, causing the frame of the bed to shake. Harry smirks up at him as he starts to scissor his fingers. Louis huffs and let’s his body sink into the mattress. 

 

“That’s my boy.” Harry chuckles, bringing his other hand down to slap against Louis’ ass lightly. Louis’ mouth falls open, partly because he’s offended at the gesture, but mostly because it feels good. 

 

“More,” Louis groans, head thrown back and eyes shut tightly. Harry obeys, sliding in the third lube slick finger and curling them up and to the left, until he hits the bundle of nerves he was looking for. Louis shrieks, his whole body writhing. Harry puts a firm hand on his hip to try and keep him still. He rubs against Louis’ prostate relentlessly, milking out breathy moans and whimpers in his wake. 

 

The bed frame starts to rattle again, and Harry raises his eyebrow from between Louis’ legs to give him a look. 

 

“Stay still.” Harry commands, pulling out his fingers and wiping them on the sheets. Lous glares at him and starts pulling harder with his wrists, a defiant look in his eyes as he lifts his chin at him. Harry wants to roll his eyes, but simply grips Louis’ hips with both hands to hold him down. Louis can feel the heat of his skin, the span of his palms from the flare of his hips to the entirety of his lower back. 

 

“Jesus, why is everything about you so fucking  _ big, _ ” Louis gasps, wrapping his legs around Harry and linking his ankles together just over his bum. Harry gives him a dirty grin as he scratches his nails down Louis’ legs, pulling off the material in his wake. 

 

“You’re pretty either way, but I prefer you  _ au naturale _ .” Harry explains, sliding his hands back up Louis’ thighs to hold him down by the waist again. Louis snorts, but he lets out a choked off moan when Harry spreads his cheeks apart and plows into him without warning.

 

“What are you, a farm animal?” Louis grunts, partly in pain and partly in pleasure. His back bows when Harry bottoms out, much to Louis’ chagrin. Composure isn’t really his thing. Neither is subtlety. 

 

“From what I recall, you’re the one who called me a horse rider, therefore,  _ you _ are the farm animal, darling.” Louis huffs, but can’t find the breath to say anything in response just yet because Harry is moving inside him. 

 

“I can’t believe - our sex life has turned into - this.” Louis grunts, pulls with his wrists as hard as he can to try to stay still, but no matter how hard he tries the thrusts still shift him up the bed. 

 

“Which part? The one where you roundabout said I have a huge horse cock, or was there something else?” Harry flutters his eyelashes at him, but the effect is diminished when the sweat dripping down his forehead catches in them and makes him blink erratically. 

 

“The part where you just called me ah - a horse.” Louis’ mouth falls open when Harry hits his prostate again, big and insistent with his upward strokes. 

 

“You called me one first.” Harry retorts, starting to pound into Louis harder in hopes of getting him to stop talking. 

 

“I didn’t,” a moan, “specify.” Louis says, his voice going higher at the end when Harry twists his torso just right. 

 

“If you say so, honey. Can you shut the fuck up now so I can make you come?” Harry replies, saccharine sweet. Louis clamps his mouth shut, pursing his lips together. He tightens his thighs around Harry’s waist as he feels the heat coil in his stomach. Harry leans down and fucks Louis’ mouth with his tongue, lifting him up by his ass and changing the angle to thrust deeper. 

Harry’s heart is pounding loud in his ears, reducing everything but the noises coming from Louis’ mouth to static. He can feel it at the base of his spine, the heat spreading through his stomach and through his whole body, his toes curling and his fingertips tingling as he comes inside the only boy he has ever loved, his cock spurting and his chest heaving. 

 

He stares at Louis’ throat bobbing when his vision comes back, keeps thrusting into his heat even though he’s over sensitive. He fists Louis’ cock with one hand, trails his mouth over his chest and sucks a nipple into his mouth, and Louis’ comes all over his fingers with a cross between a mewl and something sounding like a growl from deep within his throat. It doesn’t even sound human, but it makes Harry’s cock twitch inside him, as if it already wants to swell again. 

 

He pulls out after a minute, breath still ragged, and cradles Louis into his side, lube, sweat, come, and all. There’s silence for a while, and then:

 

“Is it a bit presumptuous of me to ask for a rimjob after that?” Louis says, a laugh bubbling up his throat, soft and pretty, just like his skin, Harry thinks. He finds the strength to sit up and start untying Louis’ wrists, because eating him out is much better when he can fist his hands in Harry’s curls. 

 

“How could I ever possibly turn down licking my own jizz out of your asshole,” Harry deadpans, although usually when he jokes about something it means he’s at least somewhat serious. 

 

“Please don’t say it like that.” Louis begs, pouting at him. 

 

“What if I don’t say anything and put my mouth to better use instead.” Louis licks his lips and spreads his legs.

 

“‘Ave at it, bad boy.” 

 

xxx

 

“Just talk to him.” 

 

“You can’t make me.” Louis crinkles his nose.

 

“If I can’t, Liam will.” Harry raises his eyebrows, trying to seem intimidating. It never works. He looks like a bloody gazelle, no matter what face he’s making. Louis should probably tell him he needs to come up with better tactics. But then being stubborn wouldn’t be any fun. 

 

“Liam isn’t the bloody police, Hazza.” Louis sighs. 

 

“Yeah, but he could so kick your ass.” Harry sticks out his tongue at him.

 

“Um, I’m standing right here.” Liam says uncomfortably. He’s standing in the corner with his arms crossed over his chest, watching the scene play out his own living room sofa, Louis sitting in Harry’s lap and taking turns glaring back and forth at the both of them. 

 

“We know.” Harry and Louis say at the same time, then proceed to grin at each other fondly like it’s a soulmate thing. It’s disgusting, Liam thinks. But also sort of cute. He tilts his head and looks at Louis forebodingly. 

 

“Zayn just wants to be friends with you again, Lou. You’re making this harder than it needs to be. Seriously, go kiss and make up or I’ll actually punch you.” Liam nods to himself, as if to make sure he said his spiel correctly. Louis sees a fault in this speech, and he doesn’t hesitate to point it out.

 

“I don’t kiss and tell, Lima.” Louis grins at him wolfishly. Liam’s eyes harden. 

 

“I didn’t mean actually kiss him, you twat.” Liam groans. 

 

“I’m kidding. No worries, Li. I don’t wanna kiss him anymore, and if I’m kissing anybody, it’s this big lug right here.” Louis puckers his lips and waits for Harry to give in. He pokes Louis in the cheek instead, which must mean he’s more annoyed than Louis thought. Liam chuckles. They both stare at him in silence until he caves.

 

“Fine. But what am I supposed to even say?” Louis stands from Harry’s lap and starts pacing in front of the coffee table. 

 

“Well, since Z broke up with you, I imagine all you have to do is accept his apology this time ‘round.” Harry supplies. Louis runs a hand through his hair nervously. 

 

“Okay. Okay. I can do that. Yeah. That doesn’t sound too hard at all. Where is he?” 

 

“In my room. I’ll go get him.” Liam answers, and whoa, whoa, whoa. That is not what Louis was expecting. 

 

“What? Liam! No, no, no. You get back here. I’m not ready!” He whisper yells. Liam disappears down the hallway. Harry takes his hand. Louis sits down on the floor, cross legged, and waits for his doom. Louis looks up at Zayn when he walks into the room and sits beside Liam on the couch. He swallows hard and waits.

 

“Hey, Lou. It’s good to see you. I know interventions aren’t really your thing, but I’m glad everything else has worked out for you and Haz. I’m sorry for leaving you high and dry, so to speak. I should’ve been there for you, whether you really wanted me there or not, you must’ve needed me.” Zayn tilts his head down to look back at Louis with a sincere smile, full of hope and adoration. Louis grins up at him giddily as he feels his heart start to slow to a normal beat. 

 

“Yeah. It’s, uh. It’s okay. As long as you and Liam are happy. Should we start calling you Ziam?” Louis jokes. Just like that, the tension in the air fizzles out. 

 

“I think it has a nice ring to it.” Liam agrees seriously and wholeheartedly. Zayn smiles so wide his eyes crinkle, and he promptly shoves Liam off the couch.

 

“Never in a million years.”

 

“Fair enough.” Liam smiles back just as blindingly, holds out a hand to Louis and helps him stand as he gets up. Louis clears his throat.

 

“Anyone seen Niall?” He questions, looking behind the sofa as if he’ll appear out of thin air like a genie. Harry raises his hand like he’s still in sixth form. Louis is hopelessly endeared.

 

“Yes, Mr. Styles.”

 

“He’s at the pub.” Harry supplies matter-of-factly. 

 

“It’s 11:30 in the morning.” Louis deadpans.

 

“It’s Niall.” Zayn retorts.

 

“Yeah, you’re right.” Liam laughs. 

 

xxx

 

They finally have the writing session. It should’ve been sooner, really, if the planets had aligned, but Ed is a pretty huge deal these days with a busy schedule, and the only other VIP in there group is Harry, but that sadly doesn’t warrant an earlier arrangement. But it doesn’t really matter anymore, because here they are.

“So, I was day drinkin’ for inspiration, right, and then I thought:  _ trumpets. _ ” Niall says, and he sounds utterly ridiculous, but.

 

“I agree. Trumpets are sick, mate!” Harry says, over-enthusiastically. Louis rolls his eyes fondly at the both of them. Olly and Ed look highly amused. 

 

“How about we start with the lyrics, and pair up into groups?” Louis suggests. Ed nods, and goes to sit next to Louis, shoving Harry out of the way. Harry looks shell-shocked. 

 

“We’re only gonna get good results if the two of you are separate. Otherwise you’ll just make googly eyes at each other and not write shit.” Ed explains. Louis laughs, because he’s right, but Harry looks a bit offended. He doesn’t say anything else, just reluctantly moves to the other part of the room to sit in a half circle with Niall and Olly. Ed turns to Louis, his eyes bright, laptop put on both their knees as he scoots closer.

 

“So, what’ve you got for me, lad.” Louis opens a word document and moves the screen so Ed can see it better. He watches Ed’s face as his eyes read through the lines, and after a few minutes of him just staring at Louis, he finally speaks.

 

“ _ Strong. _ I love it. I’m glad, after all that shit he put you through.” Ed says, fluffing up the back of his hair. 

 

“What are you on about?” Louis furrows his eyebrows. 

 

“You still love him, huh?” Ed smiles, close mouthed, like it’s a secret. Maybe he hasn’t said it in the proper context, but Louis knows the answer to this question.

 

“I can’t imagine the day that I won’t.” Louis kind of wants to cry, but he doesn’t. Ed starts tuning his guitar and trying to find a good melody for the song. They don’t speak for a while. Louis can hear Harry whispering across the room, his eyes tracking the movement of his lips. He has Niall’s snapback on his head backwards. He’s beautiful. Louis wants to give him everything.

 

“Hey, do you reckon Zayn feels the same way about Liam as I do Harry?” Louis wonders aloud. Ed looks up at him and grins.

 

“I think anyone within a ten mile radius of the two of you understands how you feel, and they love just as strongly as you do. Feels like a privilege to know all of you, mate. So, yes. I think Liam is in love with the idea of being in love, as well as being sickeningly in love with Zayn. I haven’t seen them together in person in a while, but I know.” Ed’s voice is soft and comforting. 

“I haven’t told him.” Louis blurts out.

 

“What are you waiting for? Go get him.” Ed encourages. Louis shrugs. 

 

“He knows already. He has to. Isn’t it obvious?” Louis’ face is marred with fear and worry. 

 

“Obvious to everyone but him.” Ed frowns, trying to push Louis to his feet and towards Harry.

 

“Oh.” Louis says, dumbstruck. This isn’t the time to tell him, in a room full of people, no matter who they are. They already know, anyway. He stands, makes an excuse and takes Harry’s hand, leads him up the stairs from Niall’s basement, all the way out the front door and into the cold outside. He grips his own biceps and he tells him. Again, and again, and again. 

  
He’ll tell him as many times a day as he can. He has a whole lifetime to tell him, to show him, to mean it. He needs him more than anything he’s ever needed in his entire life. The love that threatens to burst from his chest is indescribable. Harry makes him feel invincible, and that isn’t just the honeymoon phase getting to his head. Harry is  _ light.  _ Louis has never felt more light.


End file.
